


These Men

by mcgarrygirl78



Category: The West Wing
Genre: F/M, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-07-10
Updated: 2005-07-10
Packaged: 2019-05-31 07:43:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15114857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mcgarrygirl78/pseuds/mcgarrygirl78
Summary: The amount of love I have for him is boundless.  When I actually stop to think about it tears come to my eyes.  Oh God, I'm like a Hallmark card.





	These Men

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

**These Men**

**by: Montiese**

**Character(s):** Ensemble  
**Pairing(s):** CJ/Leo, Jed/Abbey, Toby/Nora, Donna/Josh/Cliff, Charlie/Zoey, Sam/Ainsley  
**Category(s):** Romance  
**Rating:** TEEN  
**Summary:** The amount of love I have for him is boundless. When I actually stop to think about it tears come to my eyes. Oh God, I'm like a Hallmark card.  


"Donna!" 

Sometimes when he barks at me like that, I cringe. It reminds me of the time I was three and my father caught me eating that round pink cake thing that goes in the toilet. They had to take me to the hospital that day, and if that was not traumatic enough then I got a spanking for my trouble. Daddy left a couple of months after that and I only saw him every other weekend. 

"Donna, where are my base closing memos from the DoD?" 

He is back in the President's good graces now, thanks to Abbey. Smug, overconfident Josh is back...he never seems to realize that this Josh gets him in the doghouse. I pull myself up from the chair, limping into his office like Igor. Josh is not amused. 

"Donna, I called you like 20 minutes ago. I need..." 

I plop two blue folders on his desk. 

"Here is everything you asked for. Why are you still working Josh? It is quiet around here." 

He wouldn't answer me but I knew some of it had to do with it being over over for him and Amy. It had been over for a year, but his interest peaked when she came to work for the First Lady after reelection. CJ called them fuck buddies, and that was really all it was. Close proximity kept it going before Amy finally quit. She put her own agenda before the President of the United States and you just don't do that...no matter how important it may seem at the time. 

All that happened on Josh's birthday, the day he almost lost everything. I know there is some lesson of importance there but I have been at work for over 12 hours so my magical powers of deductive Donna reasoning are quite muted. 

"Is there something else you could be, or would rather be doing?" he asked. 

"No." I lie. "You don't have to be so snippy Josh. What is the matter with you?" 

His face softens and I see a glimpse of the old Josh: Bartlet 4 America Josh; the Josh who nearly burned down the West Wing; Josh who drank from the keg of victory and wanted all the finest bagels and muffins in the land. He runs his fingers through his hair. I do not like his new haircut, but I certainly won't say...it makes him look older. This is the first time he has not asked me my opinion. 

"I'm tired Donna. The past few months...I'm tired Donna." 

"That's why you should go home. This is a night for the earplugs." 

I know he won't listen to me. He just returned to the ring; doesn't want the other matadors to think him weaker. 

"I'll work for another hour." He concedes. "Leo is still here." 

"OK. I'll be outside if you need anything." 

I leave his office, walk to my desk, and grab my cell phone. Pushing four, it rings three times before the familiar voice picks up. 

"Donnatella Moss, I live and breathe." 

He says it with a fake Southern accent and I laugh. He always makes me laugh. 

"Hi. Guess why I'm calling." 

"Hmm...I'm not going to see you tonight. You know for all the hours you work a week your hourly wage is $1.72. I thought you people wanted to raise the minimum wage." 

'You People' is one of the games we play. 

"We do, but you people will have nothing to do with it." I reply. 

"Yeah. Maybe you can stop by and catch a couple of hours of sleep with me." 

"Cliff, if I'm there, sleep will be the last thing on either of our minds." 

Who knew Republicans were such fantastic lovers. Not that I have many Republicans to compare him to. Well, there was Jack, and Dr. Freeride...never mind. 

"I am game for anything." He says. "I just want to see you." 

"OK." I cannot wipe the smile from my face. I have to before Josh sees me because this is a relationship I am not supposed to be in. "It'll be about 2 hours." 

"Use your key." 

Yes, I have a key now. I have to with the unpredictability of my work hours. What's a girl to do? 

"I have to go Cliff. I'll see you soon." 

\--------------------------------------------------------------- 

I drag him out of the office, not kicking and screaming, still I drag him. He was writing the President's comments for the Spanish state dinner...as if that could not wait until an hour before the show. I am madly in love with a perfectionist. He does these things, like overdue a small speech, to exercise control over the uncontrollable situation that is the United States government. 

"You know Will thought we would actually give that idiot something of substance to talk about." 

He says this as we walk down the street on a DC night that is turning chilly. His hand is warm in mine; his thick fingers a comfort after a long day. He still feels Will's betrayal; though the opening allowed Sam to come back from the Counsel's office and Toby to do more agenda work. 

"20 minutes Tobias." I reply. 

The clock is ticking and there will be no talk of the White House for 20 minutes. He usually fails miserably at the game and when I call him on it he laughs. He does not know that getting the laugh is the whole point anyway. 

"You'll never guess what I did." He says. 

We walk into our bar, our reserved booth empty as it always is from 8 to 11. Sometimes, frequently, we don't make it there on time. 

"Tell me." 

I drop my briefcase and purse in the booth as Toby extracts me from my coat. He places a kiss on the underside of my chin. 

"I got ticket to see Macbeth next week at the Kennedy Center." 

We sit, and are immediately served bourbon and a fuzzy navel. Hey, where everybody knows your name. 

"That is the hottest ticket in town. How...?" 

"It is nice to know people who owe you a few favors. I know how much you wanted to see it." 

"I do." 

I watch his facial muscles relax as I take his hand across the table and he takes his first sip of tonight's poison. 

"Bingo Bob thinks he should get a pat on the back because he knew about the Israel thing. Whoopdee doo! I cannot believe this man is the Vice-President of the United States. Not that I was overly fond of Berryhill..." 

I look at my watch. 13 minutes, a personal Toby record. I tell him so and his smile is big before he conceals it with the glass. 

"Sorry sugar. Why do you put up with me?" 

"Clearly it is your exceptional sexual prowess. That is the only time we are not talking about politics." 

Toby probably talks shop in his dreams. He is so damn passionate, bordering on obsessive, about what he does. I don't mind it most of the time because I am too. We have fierce debates about policies, initiatives, and the separation of powers. I love when we argue; we have the best sex afterward. Smiling at him I sip my drink. 

"Macbeth is next Thursday. We will dress up and sit in the box...every man will want to take you home "he says. 

"Will I get my choice of the lot or am I just stuck with you?" I ask. 

"Afraid you're stuck." 

"Crap. And I had such hopes." 

I look at him; he is wearing the 'what do you see in me' face. He wears it often and I have no idea how to answer his question. We are getting married in the winter and there is no one I would rather be with. In the few spare moments of my life I sit with a rabbi and six other Gentiles studying the Torah and the laws so that I can convert to Judaism. He never asked me to; his religion is something Toby never talks about...I did it on my own. 

I want to go to temple with him and raise our future children in rich and deep traditions. As a lapsed Episcopalian I knew I didn't have much to offer in that department. I cannot even tell you the last time I went to church. 

"You're wearing that look." I say. My drink is almost gone and it is time for another. I realize now that I am hungry. "Do you want potato skins or something?" 

He takes the appetizer menu from the side of the table. 

"What look? You can order whatever you like. I'll munch on it." 

I love the way he says munch. It reminds me of when he nibbles on my neck and earlobes. I am ticklish and he loves it. The server is back; I get potato skins and a vodka martini. 

"What look Nora?" he asks again. 

"The one that tells me that you love me so much." 

Toby shook his head; says it was his usual look. 

"I know all of your looks Mr. Ziegler. I am lucky too." 

"You are; I hear that I am quite a catch. Women all over the city are weeping at this moment." 

I laugh, getting up and slipping into the booth beside him. Toby looks surprised but his one arm automatically goes around my shoulder. He leans against the wall pulling my back to his chest. Suddenly going home and being naked are more important than vodka and appetizers. 

"We may end up in the Post." I say. "Would you mind?" 

"As long as they get my good side." He kisses behind my ear. "Let's get the skins to go and cancel the martini. I have all the ingredients at my place." 

His place, wow. Two years and we still don't spend much time at his apartment. I know that he's not hiding anything...I already found his small stash of pornography (soft core, isn't that cute?). His medicine cabinet and surrounding drawers only turned up regular medicines and a neurotic amount of dental floss. I didn't feel an ounce of guilt for searching through his things. 

Toby waves the server over, tells him to cancel the martini and wrap the skins. He nods and is off. We're out of the booth and Toby helps me with my coat. He carries the food and holds my hand as we walk back to the White House and his car. I always feel on top of the world when we are together like this. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------- 

He is on my mind all the time now. Ever since CJ came up to the house with the CDs he sent for me. He seemed to be the only one who recognized it was time to emerge from my angry, moody musical phase. There is really only so much Sarah McLachlan, Natalie Merchant, and Fiona Apple a girl can listen to before she wants to crawl out of her own skin. I finger the CDs now: Stevie Wonder, Billy Idol, Ike and Tina, UB40...only Charlie. I nearly drove mom crazy with UB40; she got her wits back and went to DC to work things out with dad. She blames him for what happened to me. Him and Leo. I don't though, and I still can't understand why she does. 

The phone rings and I smile because I know it's him. I left three voicemail messages...not sure when he would get out of my father's clutches. 

"Hello." 

"Three voicemails woman! You mean business." 

He laughs and so do I. It feels good; I haven't done it a lot in Manchester. Mom watched over me like a mama condor; I am glad she's gone. It is time to move on with my life and I need him, and this laughter to do that. 

"I couldn't stop thinking about you. I love the CDs; you were right about needing drums in my life. Still, I can't give up Under Rug Swept." 

"Is there any 24 year old upper middle class girl who can survive without her annual Alanis Morissette fix? She reminds you that you can always find something to be happy, moody, or angry about." 

I laugh again, sipping the Chardonnay in front of me. An agent has just walked by on his nightly sweep and I wave. 

"Your mother seems content to be back." He says. "She's bossier than ever." 

"We are not going to talk about my parents and their problems. They have been married forever and will work it out. Are you still at work?" 

"What do you think? Would I have ever made the Abbey comment in the West Wing?" 

That is true. There is a strict protocol at the office. Charlie doesn't even have a place to vent...his office has no doors. 

"I want to know how you are Zoey." 

"Fine. The walls are closing in a bit; I think I want to come back to DC. I miss it, and I miss you." 

"I feel the opposite. I am almost willing to give a finger or two for a long weekend of peace and quiet. We are busy now." 

"Have you ever asked my father for time off Charlie? I bet he would give it to you. You probably couldn't even get it all out before he gave it to you. He will give you anything...you're his son." 

"Wrong! As soon as he catches wind that I am coming to the farm for an unchaperoned visit, he, dragging Leo along, will swamp me with a weeks worth of work." 

I couldn't help but gasp at what he said. Charlie and I are still friends, best friends, but we are not together. A part of me doesn't know if we ever will be again, and it is partly my own fault. My therapist tells me I need to stop blaming myself for things out of my control, and she's right. Nevertheless, this is my fault. Charlie was, is, the best thing that ever happened to me. He broke down all of the walls, in a way a 4-year education never could. We had the best talks and big fights that left me breathless. And oh God, the sex! Charlie was my first...and I nearly had to take him by force. He later told me that I was his first too and that made me love him more. I broke up with him for selfish, stupid reasons, more to spite my father and his control over everything. 

I got with Jean Paul because he wasn't in that world. I liked him, especially all the attention he gave me. My relationship with Charlie lacked that one thing. He was too busy to give me all the attention I craved. The personal aide to the President has the same hours as his boss and dad has Energizer bunny tendencies. 

"Tell him you are going to spend a long weekend with Deanna at UConn." 

"Look at you with the quick lie. Zoey Bartlet, you are nothing like people think." He replies. 

"I want to see you." 

There is no point in hiding it. Even from 8 hours and thousands of miles away, he always had the ability to read my thoughts. 

"OK. Next weekend, I will visit Deanna. This is tentative Miss Bartlet...you are not allowed to be angry with me if I can't make it." 

"You are going to do everything in your power to get to me." I say. "It's your nature." 

"Yeah. I hate to cut this short, but you know how beat I am. I'm sorry." 

"Don't apologize. I love you Charlie." 

If only he knew how badly I wanted to turn back the hands of time and never walk out on him at the Arboretum. If I would've just stayed...the past year would have been so different. 

"I love you too. I liked the card you sent; it's on my nightstand by the bed." 

"If you can't come next weekend, I can sneak into DC." 

Charlie smirked. We both knew the Concorde had a better chance for an emergency landing on 15th and Ellipse than I did of sneaking anywhere. A year later, and I still had six agents at all times. 

"I am doing my damndest to get there. We don't want any Chasing Bookbag moments. Get some sleep babe." 

"I will. Call me soon; goodnight." 

\------------------------------------------------------------ 

He can't help but stare at me and I know that. Actually, I love it. Except he is not allowed to do it in front of my father. My father doesn't dislike Sam...its difficult to dislike a man educated at Princeton and Duke. He is both an excellent writer and attorney. A man who can be drawn into debate and not get sick over a glass of Jack Daniels. My father can get over the fact that Sam needs ice. If Sam were a Republican I would be beating off my parents' wedding inquiries. 

No, he is a Democrat...and not a Reagan Democrat. He believes in huge government, welfare states, and every point of FDR's New Deal. Sam wears his beliefs and passions like that old Princeton sweatshirt I have claimed for my own. His beauty is that he listens to me when I talk, though 90% of the time our views are polar opposites. Once or twice I have actually gotten him to agree with me, and that is a miracle. 

"Stop staring at me." I lean against the kitchen counter and look at him sitting on the couch dressed only in boxers. 

I am wearing his Absolut Democrat tee shirt, and he loves the dichotomy. He also loves that that is all I'm wearing. 

"Can't." he replies, lifting the beer bottle to his lips and taking a slow, deliberate taste. He does these things on purpose. "I wouldn't have far to look if you came closer. I can multi-task you know." 

"How so?" I ask. 

"I can drink, look at you, and touch you all at once." 

"Really? Is that what an Ivy League education affords you?" 

"Yes it is. You're too far away." 

I smile as I saunter over and plop on his lap. He squirms, and it's not because I am heavy. He is already excited about the prospect of what is going to happen. I gently kiss his face as he rubs my thigh. It is an early night for us and I see that Sam knows exactly how he wants to spend it. 

"How do you keep your skin so soft?" his hands dig into the skin of my thigh and I moan. 

"Shea butter, just like my grandma. Gimme kiss." 

He smiles, and I open my lips to welcome his tongue. Sam Seaborn is an excellent kisser. I think I knew that about him when we first squared off on Capital Beat. Everyone still laughs, says that he got spanked, but I think I had a crush on him the second he shook my hand. I should have been smart enough to know I would fall in love with a man who is everything I thought I despised. 

I moan against his ear as his fingers creep closer to my panties. With his right hand he takes a sip of beer and then gives me a sip. I can't help but smile. 

"Multi-tasking." I whisper, taking his earlobe between my teeth. The conversation is now over. 

\--------------------------------------------------------------- 

He finally sleeps. I love it when he is sound asleep, his face calm and peaceful. I was told that he was not sleeping well while I simmered in New Hampshire. There were nightmares, and bouts with insomnia, but I didn't care. I have never been so angry at Jed in my life. Ask anyone, and they know I have been pretty angry at times over the past 5½ years. When he decided to run for reelection without my knowledge and consent I was tempted to kill him with my bare hands. They all gathered around to save our marriage, Leo and the children, but all I wanted to do was cover his face with a pillow while he slept. His calm, peaceful face. 

I eventually forgave him...its just the way it is. I'm angry until I can't be anymore and then it is over. I remember all we've been through together, and how I still get butterflies when his lips touch mine, and I move on. This time was different though. This time my daughter almost died. I know that it devastated him; he gave up the Presidency and became daddy again. He really can't fathom what I was feeling. The loss, the dread, and emptiness. I knew if we lost Zoey then I would lose him too. The grief was double for me. 

He tries to be ignorant to my anger; that is one of his defense mechanisms. He retreats into himself like a turtle lost on the road and waits for me to return to my senses and his arms. I always do...I have for 35 years. He knows that I am not as people perceive me. I don't wake in the morning itching for battle. I'm just me, and Jed understands me. From the moment we met, when I was mesmerized by his shyness. Yet, he had a charisma and a character, and was so intelligent. He was the only person I knew that made me laugh with the absurdity of the honest to God truth. 

He loved that I was studying to be a doctor. He always studied my books, more so than I ever did, so he could test me when the time came. His mind is like a steel trap, even with the MS starting to manifest itself more often. I can't save my beloved and it kills me. But that is old news and I won't dwell tonight. 

We've been making love like newlyweds since I got back from Manchester. I admit, only to myself and begrudgingly to Mrs. McGarry, that I missed him. We are very intimate; we like to touch, hug, and be close to one another. The right touch from him can make me purr like a kitten or growl like a panther. He says I am the best lover he ever had. Jed is pretty pathetic...I am the only lover. 

When we finally got his pesky virginity out of the way (in the Notre Dame bell tower), I told him that he should explore. It was the 60s and everyone was doing it. I did it much more than he knows but we aren't going there. Jed refused. A steadfast Catholic, and a goody-goody, he was determined to only share that pleasure with his future wife. 

I will follow him anywhere, as I have so clearly shown. Congress, the state house, the White House. I have lived most of our life together in the glare of lights. I raised our daughters that way. Liz wanted to be normal and left alone; Ellie wanted to run and hide; and Zoey soaked it up and ran from it in one breath. Jed has always been good with the spotlight...separating it from our personal lives as best he can. 

He does OK, no one has ever caught on to his fondness for honey, ice cream, and sex (combined!). I don't even think Charlie knows about that, and the poor kid knows it all. Leo probably knows and that pisses me off...he knows too much. Jed leans on him, apparently for things he can't get from me. I am his wife; is there anything he cannot get from me? Leo can't give him back massages, or know exactly when to put on the music before the steam rises from his ears. OK, maybe he knows about the music and the steam. I have the back massages DAMMIT! He'll never take that from me. 

"Abbey." He reaches for me in his sleep. 

"I'm here." I pull his head to my breast and feel his body relax against mine. 

He kisses my breast with sleeping lips and I fight the urge to wake him so we can make love. He is tired and needs to be held, not ravaged. Maybe he will be in a ravaging mood tomorrow morning after his rest. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------- 

He groans as I press my knuckles between his shoulder blades. 

"Hurts." He mumbles. 

"Shh...it's supposed to initially. I have it all under control." 

"You're hurting me on purpose." He mumbles again. 

I step away. It takes him almost five minutes to realize I am no longer massaging him. Leo lifts his head from the towel. His hazel eyes are hooded as they look at me. 

"Why did you stop?" he asks. 

"Take a wild guess...hurting you on purpose. Apologize." 

"I'm sorry baby." He throws in the term of endearment for good measure. "Please continue; I am too tense." 

I go back to what I was doing. He is groaning again, but then it turns into moans of pleasure. He is tenser than he should be and I cannot help but worry about him. He is tired, short-tempered, and a bundle of nerves. Honestly I am afraid he will have a stroke. 

"Ooh baby, stay right there." He says. 

I smile. I remember the first time he called me baby. We were making love of course, the gags about the incredible amount of sex we have are very true and well documented. I loved it from the moment he said it, and he knew it. No matter how far gone I am, and I can go far sometimes, that word coming off Leo's lips brings me back almost every time. 

"Feel good?" I ask. 

"Mmm." 

I take that as a yes. I whisper my love for him, bending to kiss the nape of his neck. Yes, I love Leo McGarry, every facet of his being. He can be funny, caring, soft, loving, and kind. Then he can be imposing, rude, self-centered, and even mean. I still love him then. Over the course of our four years together we have become pretty good at separating the Chief of Staff and Press Secretary from Mr. and Mrs. McGarry. That took forever; let me tell you. Leo can be prickly in full Chief of Staff mode. I used to take everything personally, withholding affection when I felt I had been wronged. 

"Oh baby." He moans. 

Damn, that turns me on. I run my fingers down the hair on his neck before kissing it again. 

"Almost done." I say. 

"Don't stop." 

"If I keep going I am the one who will need oxygen and a stretcher." 

Leo laughs. He turns on his side, grabbing me by the waist. He does it such a way that I have no option but to climb up on the table with him. 

"Leo, I am not entirely sure this thing can hold a full grown man and an Amazon." 

He laughs again, bringing my mouth down to his. This is the part when I mention what a fantastic kisser he is. From the first time, he knew my mouth. What I like, what I don't like, and what makes me smile. I am wearing that smile now when he pulls away and strokes my face. Instinctively, I throw my leg over his and tighten our embrace. 

"You still mad at me?" he asks. 

We had a fight about something. It was nearly a week ago and all I remember is yelling and pushing him away when he tried to touch me. No doubt it was about work. If Leo and I were normal people we would rarely fight. Hell, I don't know if normal Claudia Jean would have given normal Leo a second glance. 

"I want to say yes, but I have no idea what the fight was even about Leo." 

"Far be it for me to remind you. I think you might be right about the weight capacity of this massage table though. Get up baby, before we land on the floor." 

I climb down and take his hand, pressing it to my lips. He smiles and my heart leaps. The amount of love I have for him is boundless. When I actually stop to think about it, tears come to my eyes. Oh God, I'm like a Hallmark card. 

Before we get to the bed, his towel and my tee shirt are gone. The door is ajar but that is not going to stop us...neither of our children can walk and the nanny is used to these antics. 

Leo wraps his naked body around mine, kissing my neck. His breathing is normal for the first time in days and his heartbeat is not too fast. My husband is almost twenty years older than I and let me say if I could check his blood pressure without waking him in the morning I would do it. He never sees a doctor, turning pissy or whiny when I bring it up. Leo McGarry is old school, believes a man is well if he can think, stand, and walk. Maybe I should knock him down and see how he likes that. 

For years before I knew him, he shattered his body with alcohol and pills. All I want is a physical...preventing the bad thing from happening instead of patching the frail body after. It is like talking to a brick wall. 

"I am not the only one tense tonight." He says, licking the inside of my ear. 

Yes, he knows exactly how to calm me down. Leo is an expert with his mouth. 

"I scheduled you for a physical next week." I reply, mentally preparing myself for the tirade. He does not like when I attempt to control him. We never know when that is until we are fighting about it. 

"Next week is pretty busy Claudia Jean." 

He is calling me by my Christian name, so I don't think he'll yell. Being naked helps...Leo is always relaxed sans clothes. Especially if I am also sans clothes. 

"Wednesday morning at 7:45. It should take an hour; Margaret cleared the schedule. I had her move back staff to 9:30. Please honey." 

His lips have traveled down my ear, my jaw, my neck, and now he bites my shoulder. I will not be distracted from the cause at hand. Focus McGarry! 

"OK." He says it nonchalantly. It is his 'I'm planning to cancel' voice. 

As if I didn't see this coming. 

"No one can cancel it but me. Not you, Margaret, or the President of the United States." 

He sighs heavily. 

"Fine. Did you say Wednesday? I'm there." 

He drapes his body over mine. His face is never sexier than when it hovers above mine. He has the lopsided grin and the lust in his eyes...my God I do have a one-track mind. 

"Can we make love now or would you like to take my pulse and blood pressure first?" he asks. 

I run my hands down his shoulders, his back, and his buttocks. I feel his erection harden on my stomach. That part has not failed him yet, and for that I am grateful. It is not that I need sex 24/7...oh hell, I love it and he loves it and there is no reason to be ashamed. We are married with children and very stressful jobs; we deserve our 30 to 60 minutes a day of reckless abandon. 

"If I waited until you were 120 over 80, or even close, I would just be depriving myself." 

Leo kisses me deep and I sink into the bed like a swimming pool on the hottest day of the year. I feel the pressures of the day, the past couple of days, fall away like an extra set of clothes. Now its just skin-to-skin, heat, pleasure, and Leo. I have a strong ache for the rest of our life to be this effortless. 


End file.
